Monday, November 23, 2015

“I am now confident and
strong. I know I am a person, not an animal. My wound, my deep wound, is also
my strength, because it makes me help others … those who bear scars must help
the wounded.”

Would you guess this is a quote from an Iraqi woman, a rape
victim, a former prostitute who has spent the past nine years rescuing women
trapped in the horror of sexual violence that exists in Baghdad? I wouldn’t
have.

I left out part of the quote from an article that appeared
in The New Yorker, October 5, 2015 “Out of Sight” by Rania Abouzeid, the part
where she says, “Sometimes I don’t think it can be stopped.” When she sees
victims, “I feel like my insides are ripped open. I am hurt witnessing this” (During
the interview she was called to the scene where a woman had been dragged from
her home and shot in the street because she worked in a brothel.)

Illustration by Aude Van Ryn

And yet, in the face of what seems completely hopeless she continues
her work because “my wound, my deep
wound, is also my strength, because it makes me help others.”

We’ve lately heard and read much about women who are beaten,
starved, murdered, forced into slavery, marriage, or who are sold to brothels
or must choose prostitution and its terrifying risks in a Muslim culture just
to support their children..

I can’t imagine. And can only pray and pray for them and the
world – that God would soon come to them with all the power and might he holds
against evil – and his great and mysterious ability to be both just and
merciful at the same time. Unlike myself who would like to simply kill where I
saw fit and be done with it.

I can’t imagine being Layla whose suffering has become her
motivation, even her conduit for helping others. She’s not the pitiful,
self-focused loser I might become. No.

I can’t imagine. And yet I can. In my small way. I am drawn
to this woman and her wise words because somehow she speaks across oceans of
divide to touch our own lives. To whatever degree we bear wounds, if we can
remember who we are – humans bearing God’s image, persons, not animals, that in
Christ we can be strong and confident – “His divine power has given us everything we
need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him.” (II Pet. 1:3) This
will enable us to live lives that are meaningful.

So here’s the thing: If what I do, however small and
seemingly insignificant to others springs out of my own suffering (again, even
if comparatively small to Layla’s) isn’t that the gift or at least part of the
gift I am to give to others? “Those who bear scars must help the wounded.” We
all bear scars. So, if I walk out of this office and plan our Thanksgiving meal
with love and thought for this small group of people who will gather with us,
including our granddaughter who has her own past wounds from holidays gone
awry, won’t that be doing what I can to lift a corner of darkness here, where I
live?

Layla is my hero. I pray God will guard her steps and
protect her heart and all the women she rescues.

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Whether we look far away or close at hand – from France to
the people of our hearts, we long for peace. We long for hope.

For a few days of solitude, I’ve come away to a quiet place.
Perhaps I will find headspace to write again.

I’ve watched the wild ducks gather at the bottom of the lawn.
In a puddle spread before the shore a family of mallards nibble and nibble on
something under the water. Roots? Chickweed? They ruffle their tails and preen
their breasts, comfortably relaxing into the soggy grass as if into a hot spa.
A female scolds a male and he sprints from her clacking beak. After the ducks
depart a pair of crows splash into the puddle and then sip their bathwater. A
black squirrel runs up and down the oak with mouthfuls of leaves. I see she is
building a winter nest as she shapes them into a ragged clump. There is healing
in these observations. I waken to more than despair and “forethought of grief.”
I do. I am almost happy.

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Toads Drink Coffee

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Japanese Coffee art: "Kitty chasing fish latte."

Toads, etc.

For many years we lived in Toad Hall, an old American Gothic Foursquare house named for the mansion in Wind in the Willows although ours wasn’t really a mansion, the kids just thought it was. Now we live in a different home – one more suited to aging with dignity – yes, well, we can hope – The House Between. “Between” because we are living that stage of life between now and what is to come. Sound a little macabre? It’s not. We needed move to a space with main floor accessibility for older people who may not always be able to climb stairs to sleep and eliminate. We love this home in a quiet neighborhood with offices overooking the wooded ravine behind where we feed birds and watch coyotes play leap frog. We love knowing, too, that this is not our final place – there is more healing and goodness in the next life. I’ve kept the name of my blog toadsdrinkcoffee because I don’t know how to migrate to a new one. The name is now even more obscure, but it had to do with living in Toad Hall and my addiction to coffee. However, I did migrate my old publication – Notes From Toad Hall– to the new one Letters from the House Between.